Tactless
by AutumnCaskette
Summary: G1. The war is over, but peace is claiming its own lives. Rebellion and political unrest run rampant on Cybertron, with Shockwave at their roots. Prowl and Skywarp are left to try and unite old allies to prevent the war from reigniting. Prowl/Skywarp.
1. Chapter 1

My thanks to BlueProwl for being such an awesome beta.

For information on why this fic was deleted, and is now being reposted, visit my profile. And before anyone accuses me of stealing this, I am RedRequiem. I just changed my penname.

Updates will be Monday/Tuesday.

This fic takes place six centuries after the war ends. There wasn't a real victor, but since the Autobots were the ones mainly aiming for peace, they're more widely viewed as such.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers. I don't even own a _car_, let alone one that's secretly a giant alien robot.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Six centuries since the final battle at Kaon — strange that the war would begin and end in the same city.

Six centuries since the Transformer race had begun to undertake the tremulous course to peace without faction.

Six centuries of political unrest and suppressing rebellions too numerous to count.

Six centuries since Jazz had been deactivated.

Six centuries of hell.

Prowl's hands clenched on the railing of the balcony, his optics trained on the far horizon without truly seeing anything. The air was cold and clear, pierced by the incandescent lights of the surrounding city. The world around him was thrown into sharp detail, but none of it penetrated Prowl's mind. It never did anymore.

Someone behind him sighed and drummed their fingers against the doorframe leading out to the balcony. "Staring at the sky he died under won't make him any less dead."

Prowl turned from Kaon's skyline, face and voice emotionless despite the deep-rooted anger that threaded its way through his systems. "For a moment, just a _moment_, could you pretend you aren't utterly tactless?"

Skywarp shrugged noncommittally. "Dunno." The fluorescent green light peeling from the building to their left glinted eerily off the black in the seeker's armor. His red optics fixed unwaveringly on the once-Autobot, forceful but not unkind. "For a moment, could you pretend I'm not right?"

Prowl squared his shoulders, shoving his way past Skywarp and into the room beyond without sparing him a glance.

The former Decepticon smirked and shook his head. "And now comes the part where you turn all business and ignore me." He laced his fingers above his head, stretching. "I just love that we're working together this time! You're so much fun," he added with unparalleled sarcasm.

"We're on a mission," Prowl replied coolly. He perched back-straight on the edge on his berth, one of two in the room, and thumbed his way through various options on a datapad. "Do me the kindness of concentrating on your part." He paused as he studied the mech specs now lining the screen in front of him. "We may have found the site where the triplechangers' rebel cell is convening, but they still have two days to change locales… a possibility that will become reality if they discover your true allegiance."

Prowl's chief concern and duty since the peace negotiations was to quell the eternally high number of former soldiers looking to reignite the war… whether spurred by the refusal to give up their ideals, malice for mechs willing to live alongside their past enemies, or the simple desire to take the seats of power left vacant by the ruling peace. The Guard had neutralized a near equal number of mechs from both factions, bearing ranks from all ends of the spectrum.

The alleged cell under the command of the triplechangers' was widely considered to be the last major threat, and they were holding a conclave in the sin-rich streets of Kaon.

Skywarp, unsurprisingly, had elicited an invitation.

The former Decepticon was admittedly frustrating and more than a little difficult to keep in line, but as an infiltrator he was invaluable.

The seeker reached his own berth in three lazy strides and sprawled across it animatedly. "Tch, relax. Astrotrain and Blitzwing are so slagging desperate to get some of the old players in on their game that they never stopped to doubt my intentions." He flashed the tactician an arrogant smile. "And when it comes to playing the part of double agent, there's no one better than me to trust." The slight nudge he put into 'trust' was almost teasing.

Prowl started to counter by pointing out Starscream's flair for treachery, but caught himself.

Jazz wasn't the only one to die under Kaon's sky.

Prowl studied the roguish, nonchalant mech lounging carelessly across the room. The teleport had lost both of his wingmates in the same battle: one to the Autobots, and one to insanity. He wondered if Skywarp still visited Starscream's mindless shell in Dire. His spark clenched in a melding of guilt and empathy. "Just… get the evidence we need to connect them to the bombing in Polyhex. The Guard can't take any of the insurgents into custody without that proof. Keep me and Ironhide in touch with your visual and audio feeds. Don't get overconfident and shut us out. Again."

Skywarp looked slightly mutinous. "I still don't understand why you can't just get Soundwave to mind-suck them." When he saw Prowl start to retort, he beat him to it, waving one hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Those two wouldn't get anywhere near a telepath if they were really plotting something. I get it; don't lecture me again. It's just…" He fidgeted. "Couldn't he jump them when they're coming out of a bar or somethin'? It wouldn't be hard. Those two never could hold their energon."

Prowl sighed a familiar long-suffering sigh. "Soundwave is still tracking Shockwave. You know that."

The teleport shuddered. "And good luck to him." He swiped an energon cube off the berthside table and mock toasted his former communications officer, downing the cube's contents despite the fact it had been sitting there for at least a cycle, probably longer.

Looking at him, Prowl thought bitterly, one wouldn't think he'd lost _anyone_… let alone his wingmates. The tactician supposed he resented him for that. He also supposed that some healing should be expected after six centuries, and perhaps that made Prowl the true rarity.

Skywarp rolled languidly onto his side and caught the stare. Red optics flashed alluringly in theme with a sneer. "What?"

"Nothing," Prowl forced a smirk, pushing himself back so he could rest against the wall. "It's just… You made a crack on the triplechangers not being able to hold their high grade, but I'm thinking of the number of times I've seen you completely thrashed."

Skywarp feigned looking insulted. He couldn't hold the expression, and it dissolved into a knowing laugh. "Okay, I get a little wild, but there is a difference between tolerance and the ability to have a good time." He tilted his head, a challenging smile curving his lips. "Let me buy you a drink sometime, and I'll be more than happy to demonstrate that fact."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Skywarp watched Prowl's face deadpan just as it had done every other time he'd suggested he take him out for a drink. He knew why. He'd seen the reason reflected not only in those reserved blue optics, but in the faces of the former Autobot's comrades and friends whenever they tried to bridge the fissure that had formed since Kaon. Skywarp wondered if it had ever been reflected in the red of his own optics.

The seeker had only been working with Prowl for a little under a decade now, but he found that he was quickly growing attached. Besides… the mech had given him the job of a lifetime. Skywarp was literally paid to get close to anyone gaining a name for notoriety, and since he used to _be_ one of those names… He was already in good with Cybertron's illustrious villains. Most of his time was spent partying and playing with the minds of wannabe crimelords until it was time to turn them in for treason.

The setback was that the more he became familiar with Prowl, the more he realized the former Autobot was sinking fast. Despite the desperate attempts made by his comrades, he wasn't healing… and that thought refused to leave Skywarp's mind. Prowl was charismatic, courageous, passionate, and insensibly selfless. He was an enigma.

But for all Prowl's strengths, he was still engulfed by sorrow. He was still in love with the bondmate he'd lost. Skywarp wasn't a telepath, but he'd seen the sort of darkness that saturated the tactician's every movement enough times to know the truth. There wasn't anything his comrades could do for him. They were too close, the wrong sort of close. Prowl needed help, and he wasn't finding it in the mechs he surrounded himself with.

Silence wove its way throughout the room, broken only by the sound of the city's nightlife pouring in from the balcony. The silence would continue unless Skywarp made the choice to break it.

The teleport sat up, arms wrapped around one knee. His optics never deviated from the other mech's face. "It's not like I forgot them, Prowl. My wingmates were everything to me. The difference is where I come from. You Autobots might have been permitted to show sentiment; it was acceptable for you because you had the sort of comrades that could empathize." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "It's a funny image… trying to imagine the mechs I fought alongside consoling someone." The teleporter grew very still. "No, I haven't forgotten. I've just had billions of years to perfect suppression." A weak smiled accompanied a hollow laugh. "I miss them, Prowl. I do." Skywarp refocused. "But I survived and they didn't."

The answering warning laced into Prowl's glare clearly commanded Skywarp not to continue on that train of thought.

True to form, Skywarp ignored it completely. "And you know what I think?"

Prowl stiffened. "The answer had better be _nothing_." His voice was deadly even, thick with an almost tangible threat.

The teleport's optics dimmed. "I think that if Jazz was alive and could see what you've done to yourself, it'd kill him all over again." Skywarp maintained the dangerous optic contact as he slid off the berth and took slow, cautious steps towards the former Autobot. It was uncanny how such pristine blue optics could be so volatile. He could tell that it was taking every ounce of Prowl's well sculpted self control not to strike him. Skywarp eased down beside him anyway.

Prowl didn't move away, but the intense ferocity in the light of his optics danced in the darkened room. There was a threat there that would be unwise to disregard, but it was the course the teleport chose to follow.

Skywarp's voice retained its energy even though he couldn't keep it from adopting a shadowed tone. "I wasn't the mech that fired that shot, Prowl." He lifted his hand to touch his superior's face. For a moment, he thought that the former Autobot would let him, but then Prowl caught his wrist roughly.

"Don't touch me." Each syllable was cut and aggressive, and the grip tightened painfully.

"Prowl…" Skywarp let his hand fall as the tactician pulled away and slipped passed him without a word. He heard the doors to the room hiss open and close again. "I want you to stop looking at me as though I'm the one that deactivated him." The seeker stood and walked back to his berth, mind numb. "Because I think I might actually want to help you."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Blitzwing lifted his arm from around Astrotrain's shoulders as the newcomer entered the room. He took a swig of high-grade before grinning. "Swindle! You're early."

Swindle smiled greasily, hands spread wide. "Yeah, and it's a good thing for you that I am." He lounged in the booth across from the two triplechangers and took a long draft from his cube before elaborating. "Kaon is thick with the Guard."

Astrotrain's optics widened as he leaned forward. "Guard? But how did they…?"

Blitzwing's shock quickly became a sneer as he waved his partner to silence. "Fortunately, we made this caucus exclusive. There's only a few mechs that could be the informant."

"Heh… I've already got you covered," Swindle chuckled as he toasted them. "Too bad, it would have been _so_ beneficial to have a teleporter in our ranks."

Blitzwing's optics brightened, and a cruel smirk curved his lips. "Oh? Pity… I always rather liked Skywarp." He relaxed, arm reclaiming its place around Astrotrain. "I suppose we should pay him the kindness of returning him to Thundercracker." He swirled the contents of his cube. "It's the least we can do for a former comrade."


	2. Chapter 2

**Rest in Peace**

**Taylor Riles**

**December 20, 1989 – September 26, 2008**

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_Two cycles later._

-

Prowl leaned against the wall, optics scanning the streets below through a grimy windowpane. His selective gaze never rested in one place for long, constantly shifting from mech after mech, dismissing each in turn. He was searching the crowd for someone specific; at the moment he didn't have the time or the attention to spare on Kaon's grasping, amoral populace.

A soft chuckle pervaded the darkness. "You're a real piece of work, ya know that?" Ironhide lazed himself against the wall opposite Prowl, arms crossed.

The knowing look on his friend's face would have been irritating if Prowl was the type easily irritated. "Care to elaborate?" he asked dryly.

"Nah," he shrugged. "I just wanted to point it out." The Guard's commanding officer smirked slightly, leaving the statement to hang in the air.

Prowl spared him a single unbothered glance before returning his optics to Kaon's streets.

Ironhide let out a bark of laughter. "Primus, Prowl… You're so fun to mess with, but it's so slagging hard to!" The laugh faded to a hoarse chuckle. "Yeah… I'm gonna elaborate. Believe me when I say I wouldn't have brought it up otherwise." He fell silent for a moment, joining his comrade in searching the crowd below. When he spoke, the tone was unarguable but non-patronizing. "One of the only mechs that can possibly grasp what you're going through, and you treat him like utter slag. It ain't like you, Prowl. You've been distant as long as I can remember, but never cruel."

Blue optics remained stoically locked on Kaon's masses. "What is this? An intervention?" Prowl tried to work a viable amount of contempt into the next statement, and barely managed it. "He's a 'con."

"_Was_ a 'con." The emphasis on the first word was gruff and blunt. "Honestly, if _I _of all mechshave managed control over that prejudice, you sure as slag should be able to." Ironhide shook his head. "I know he spent a great portion of his life tryin to kill us, but we spent a great portion of ours tryin to kill him. Fair's fair." He tried to catch Prowl's gaze meaningfully, but the action was in vain. "Give that seeker somethin to be loyal to, and he's a good mech. And if there's one thing I'm certain of in regards to Skywarp, it's that he's slaggin loyal to you." He smirked. "As ironic as it might seem that Skywarp, authority on reckless and compassionless thrills, wants to help you… I believe that he does. Really. And once again," Ironhide jerked a thumb at himself animatedly. "It should say something that _I'm_ speaking on behalf of a former 'con." He looked away from the windowpane. "That seeker has spent the last decade tryin to get through that slaggin armor of yours."

Prowl shifted slightly, shoulders tense. His reply was heavy with bitterness. "Yeah he's been trying to get through my armor, but not in the metaphoric way you're suggesting."

Ironhide's notorious temper flitted across his face for the briefest moment. "I'm tryin to decide if I can get away with beatin this into you, but I'm willin to bet you'd pull rank at this point." He gripped Prowl's forearm instead. "I know slaggin well how much you loved Jazz, but have you bothered to think of how much that seeker loved _his_ bondmates? Have you even considered that?"

Prowl's tone was scathing, but he couldn't quell the guilt invading his spark. "And have you ever heard him talk about them? They can't have meant much to him if he can speak of their deaths in such an offhand way to a former enemy."

"Uh-huh. Right," Ironhide amended wryly. "So, your logic is what? If you lose someone and move on, then you didn't really love them? Wow. You're so sweet." His grip on Prowl's arm tightened, and his voice was harsh enough to be painful. "Skywarp is a survivor. He keeps a hold on his wingmates' legacy and he keeps on livin. He's tryin to show you how to do the same thing."

Prowl couldn't meet Ironhide's optics. He was more than aware of his own denial, but he was far from ready to accept it.

"You're right, Prowl. His intentions hardly fall into the category of friendship." Ironhide let go of his superior, shoving him against the wall as he did so. "But he isn't just jonesing for some action. I don't think he'd be _our_ agent if that were the case." He shook his head, looking disgusted. "Slaggit, Prowl! The mech's either in love with you or damn well near it. For someone that prides himself on tactics and observation, you sure are slaggin thick."

Prowl's fists clenched. "Remember that comment about pulling rank?" He couldn't suppress the quiver that laced its way through his voice. His optics were dark.

"I ain't speaking from the position of ranks, _Prowl_. I'm speaking from the position of _I'm your slaggin friend, and I'm tryin to keep you from actin like a dumbaft_." He turned, giving a curt wave over his shoulder. "You wanna hold me in contempt mere hours before a major bust, that's your prerogative."

Prowl's optics relit weakly as Ironhide began to walk away.

Ironhide called back as he reached the door, on his way to take up his position the rest of the Guard. "Oh… I almost forgot. While we're sharin, there's one more thing I'd like to point out." He turned slightly, finally making the needed optic contact. "If he means so _slaggin_ little to you, then why the _slag_ are you watchin the streets to make sure he gets in safe?" He mock-bowed. "How's _that_ for observation skills?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The room was windowless, the walls draped with an imported red fabric that hung in low loose arches. Light came from soft wine-colored globes resting on the table before each seated mech, casting sinister shadows on cruel and drunken faces. Some optics held a rough animalistic fury, while others glimmered with cold and sadistic cunning; all shone with the light of a familiar thirst, one that peace could never sate. Their tongues were tangled with memories of a war that had failed to loosen its poisonous hold on their sparks.

Skywarp felt a little nostalgic.

The teleport draped an arm around the back of his chair, and faked a swallow of high-grade. In truth, he was starting to worry about the Guard's chances. The former Decepticons lounging around him were members of two of the most dangerous gestalts he had known: Menasor and Bruticus. Prowl needed a miracle, though Skywarp supposed that his intellect was miracle enough. He hoped it was, anyway. He was essentially screwed if it wasn't. He studied the cube wrapped in his fingers objectively. Oh, well.

A hand touched his waist tentatively, invisible in the near blackness.

Skywarp minutely turned his head in confusion towards the mech seated on his left, optics questioning.

Onslaught didn't look at him, but his optics were bright and wide with something like desperation. "Get out of here…" he whispered so lightly it was nigh impossible to hear.

Skywarp's lips parted slightly, barely moving. "What…?"

Across the table from him, Swindle chose that moment to stand and spread his arms welcomingly. His oily voice cut through the rough intoxicated conversation with the ease of a practiced con artist. "A toast to the prospect of pandemonium and shed energon!"

Skywarp grinned and slipped seamlessly into his act, unsurprised at how easy it was to appear truly fervent. His voice joined the appreciative whoops and laughter with his trademark careless enthusiasm. When it came time to drink, he didn't even think to feign it. Skywarp wondered just how much luxury the triplechangers were privy to as he savored the vintage and obviously expensive taste.

Swindle raised his cube and nodded to Blitzwing's position at the head of the table. "But let us turn our attention to the deserving mech behind the masterful and bombing in Polyhex. The visionary comrade that brought us together on this soon to be historic night in Kaon."

The teleport tilted his head in slight bewilderment at the words 'deserving' and 'visionary'.

The triplechanger smirked, but didn't stand. "Much obliged, Swindle… as always." He surveyed the mechs seated before him, smirk widening to a wicked smile. His voice was uncharacteristically polished and unnerving, seeping into the chilled air. "I'm pleased to see that not all Decepticon's have calmly faded into the Autobot's idealistic society."

Skywarp fought to suppress a laugh. Blitzwing knew words like idealistic? Really? Swindle must have written the speech for him. The teleport settled himself back in his seat, already amused. At this rate, he wouldn't need the high-grade to have a good time.

Blitzwing's voice reverberated off the walls, permeating the darkness. "We all share the same disgust for the fools who so easily allowed themselves to become domesticated by concepts like unity and peace. So many of our brethren have become chained by the fruitless ideals of clemency and mercy. So many are willing to forget billions of years of conflict in favor of the uncontested rule of Autobot aristocracy. They've allowed the deaths of our brethren to be in vain. They've become enslaved by the guise of equality and freedom."

His smile faded, as he swirled the contents of his cube. "But we have the opportunity to show them the nature of their slavery. We have the opportunity to remind them of their oaths to the Decepticon legions. We have the opportunity to remind them what it is to be free. Once we rise up and reclaim the unquestionable truth of war, they will flock from all corners of Cybertron to join us. The loyal Decepticons that fled rather than to abandon their faction will return. All they need is to be reawakened to their hatred for the falsities they are laboring under. And those mechs that can't be reawakened…" He laughed softly, cruelly. "Will be destroyed for their treason. We can't allow ourselves to be weakened by sympathy for our broken comrades. We can not be held down by memories of the warriors they once were." Blitzwing stood smoothly, lips curving. "We must provide our own brand of mercy."

Skywarp felt his spark grow cold as Blitzwing's gaze fell on him, smile charming but full of bloodlust. He stood involuntarily, possessed by his comrade's stare and the sudden revelation that the speech had been for his benefit.

The conspirator's voice was almost sweet as he drank in the sudden fear in the seeker's stance. "Allow me to provide you with an example." Blitzwing threw his cube violently against the wall, shouting a command as it shattered.

Skywarp let out a piercing shriek of pain as a blade punctured the armor between his wings and tore roughly. He knew instantly that the wound had offlined his teleportation systems. The taste of his own energon mingled with the lingering flavor of high-grade as he sank back into the waiting embrace of his aggressor.

Onslaught wrapped his arms around the seeker's waist, energon-slick hands still expertly clutching the blade. "I tried to warn you, 'Warp," he whispered listlessly. "But in the end, my loyalty is to my gestalt." His optics held the closest thing a Decepticon could manage to an apology. "You'd have done the same for your wingmates, I know it." Onslaught brushed his lips gently against a wing. "Forgive me."

He wondered why the room was suddenly so much brighter than it had been only a few moments before… A breath of a scream slipped through his lips as he realized the darkness was now saturated with the fluorescent glow of his own energon.

A hand clenched around his throat, and Skywarp felt Onslaught pull away.

Blitzwing smiled, the rough fury that the seeker remembered finally lighting on his face. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, and Guard? I know you're listening, so let me advise you. We'll be gone by the time you reach this position, and even if you somehow managed to catch us… You don't have the firepower to stop us. Besides, there's no rush." Blitzwing snaked his hand between Skywarp's wings and dug his fingers into the open wound. "He'll be dead soon, anyway."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Oh, come on!" Sunstreaker shouted in disbelieving protest. "He was right! We don't have the numbers to go up against two gestalts. We can't go after them, and I am _not_ getting slagged for Skywarp's sake."

The look Prowl gave in response thoroughly convinced Sunstreaker that the best course of action was to remain silent.

Ironhide placed a hand on Prowl's shoulder. "We'll come up with a plan, but it'll take time and we don't know how much of that we can spare."

Prowl's voice was hoarse. "I know our chances. I also know that one of our comrades is facing death, and that's a danger we… I… put him in. He knew the risks, but we're still the ones that gave them to him." His blue optics passed unseeingly over the mechs in front of him. "We have to follow, whatever the chances. It's what he deserves."

"Actually, I'd say you have quite a good chance… or you will in a moment."

The members of the Guard turned to face the newcomer.

Prowl shouted for them to lower their weapons.

Octane shrugged, laughing lightly as though the brief display of the Guard's aggression was comical. "What can I say? I seem to be the only triplechanger that hasn't lost his mind." He walked slowly and carelessly to stand before Prowl, brushing passed the mechs that attempted to stand in his way. "I'll cut you a deal. I'll show you the where and how, if you swear to me that Blitzwing and Astrotrain will come out of this alive."

Prowl studied the calm face in front of him. He was surprised to see a glimmer in the gold optics that mirrored his own desperate concern… though admittedly and unexpectedly, the former Decepticon's was better suppressed.

"I swear."


End file.
